Lithuania's Journal
by TreekiKat10
Summary: 'Lithuania find his life living in Russia's household getting harder and harder, and the psychotic Russia could turn on him at any moment, Liet can't afford to mess up.' Maybe some LietPol in later chapters.  T for some themes, mostly later.


**This is a story I'm planning on continuing for awhile, maybe with some LietPol added in, but it'll mostly be about Lithuania dealing with living with Russia, etc. Updates might not come to regularly, but I have up to the beginning of Chapter 3 done so far, just making sure I have enough done before I upload something.  
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**Day 1672 of Imprisonment:**

_Russia threw me down the stairs for the third time this week, and Latvia is crying so loudly all the time, it's starting to to give me migraines. Estonia is no help either, what with his dodging of Mr. Russia. But, overall, today was better than most._

After re-reading last night's journal entry I left my bedroom, not needing to prepare further for the day, because I had already arisen and dressed hours before to make breakfast and tend to Mr. Russia's sunflower garden in the sunroom. I slipped the hardback book under my bed as I had done so many times before, 672 times, to be exact. Treading on light feet across the cold wooden floor I carried myself to the door, offering my hand to the knob as if greeting the day, and the coming miseries.

Walking out into the hall, I noticed that the bedroom that Estonia and Latvia shared was empty. They must have gone out early to the market to get goods for Mr. Russia's house. Great, now I was alone with a psychotic, six-foot tall maniac, who also happens to be my employer. Employer, or rather master. I am more of a slave or servant to him than anything. The way he treats me, orders me around like I have no dignity. I had respect for that man once, that country. That was before things changed, before he beat me, before the scars and bruises.

I tried to get my mind away from it, think of happier things. Not sunflowers, sunflowers only bring me pain now. As I walked down the grand corridor I thought of the wonderful breakfast I had make early this morning. Savoring the wonderful scent that still lingered on my nose, I was happy.

But then his door opened. He stepped out, shadows playing tricks on his face, almost worse tricks than his own.

"Hello, my lovely sunflower," He said to me, making shivers crawl up my back, "Come here, Russia wants you to hug him." He continued, opening his arms wide and starting to make that insane 'Kolkolkol' sound I knew so well.

I flinched, "N-not today, M-mr. Russia, S-sir..." Oh, no, this was the day. The day he would hug me, and then drag me into his room and scar me more. This was the day he was going to do more harm to me, farther than he had ever gone. I don't want this disgrace, I wouldn't even be able to look at myself, not to mention look at him or the other Baltics ever again. I would hang my head in shame and resentment, it would be torture.

"Oh, Litva? Russia knows what he wants. He wants a hug from you, da?" He still kept that crazed smile plastered on his face. That severe grin had haunted me to this very day. I remembered, once, I was allowed to go visit Poland, only for twenty-four hours.

He heard me screaming in the night, yelling at the top of my lungs for Russia to "stop hurting me, and just go away and don't give any more scars". He rolled over and woke me immediately, almost in tears. When I opened my eyes and saw those emerald gems that were his own eyes staring down at me, clouded with worry, brimming with tears, I let my own tears fall- tears of joy. I was overjoyed that I had awoken to him, and not to that vile Russia.

"L-liet," he asked me, choking up, "L-like, what scars?" He had to know the whole of it. I sat up, he did too, still holding close to me. I pulled the back of my shirt up to reveal the pink ribbons that were my wounds. "Oh, oh God..." Poland muttered. He hugged me from behind and we wept together until dawn.

Backing myself into the present, I decided that he would get to me either way, and I stepped forward, to the shadow of his arms.

"There, there, da?" He smiled, more sickeningly than before, if possible. I made the final steps to his outstretched limbs, closing the gap, I whimpered as he enveloped me in his darkness. I could feel his chin under his scarf resting on the top of my head, his warm winter coat encasing me like a cloying net. I was a fly, trapped in his spiderweb. His hand rubbed up and down my back as he whispered to me, "You know you are my favorite, Litva, da? You know I would do anything to prove that to you. Anything..." He kolled. Oh, god, this is it, my final curtain.

He moved his hand up to my ragged brown hair, telling me oh-so-sincerly, "Ah, Litva, I love your hair. So much color, so much more than mine." I trembled. He didn't care if I talked back or not. "And your eyes, oh your eyes, da?" He held me too him, still caressing my hair, "Blue like snow, like frozen rivers," he whispered to me while he moved his hand over my skin to my cheek. At this I could no longer hold it in. I let the tears that were behind my lids to come fluttering out, landing like a fragile butterfly on his rough thumb.

"Litva, do not cry, da?" He spoke as he decided to rub his thick finger across my face. "Russia will make it all better." Oh, I wish it were true. I wish he could make it better. I remember the first time I met him. It was a long time ago, before Poland, before all this. Walking in the snow I found it hard to believe that for some countries, it never snows.

Treading lightly, I breathed as I sauntered over the ice and snow laden bridge, cool, cool river almost frozen underneath. It was then I saw him. I stopped and stared at the little figure. Hair light as silver, pale face, and eyes akin to amethyst. His bulk was bundled by robes and a scarf so that he appeared used to the weather. He spoke, so gently back then, to me, stuttering slightly as if embarrassed. I wondered if he was like me, a country, but embodied my human form. The answer was yes and I felt a joy uplifting in my heart as I saw that I was not alone, I was not alone in this. He told me that we would become friends when he was a strong country, but when questioned as to why now, he refused. Mr. Russia, always wanting to have the power. He ran and waved and yelled goodbye to me, and only then did I realize that the hems of his coat were soaked in blood.

"Oh-oh my-" A voice cut through our crystalline stillness. I turned, jarred by the thought of someone seeing me like this.

"Lithuania! Russia! what are you-" Another, smaller voice joined as I whipped myself out of this now strange man's arms. There was Estonia and Latvia, obviously back from their shopping trip.

And with that I lost it. My weak constitution and fragile state showed itself as I saw the frame of my vision blur and shift, the world becoming more yellow-orange and I shook my head and brought foreign feeling fingers to my forehead. I closed my eyes. It was just a little dizziness, wasn't it? And then I was out.

**You like it? Gets better as it goes on, trust me... I think... Anyway, please review! I really love reviews, they really make my day, even if all they say is 'AWESOME~! :D' or something like that. Thanks for reading!**


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